


Go East

by AriadneKurosaki



Series: IchiRuki Month 2020 [8]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - East of the Sun and West of the Moon Fusion, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, IchiRuki Month, Non-Graphic Violence, ShunUki (Implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25766158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriadneKurosaki/pseuds/AriadneKurosaki
Summary: A cursed prince. A woman with eyes like amethysts and a sword she knows how to wield. This is a story of love and destiny.
Relationships: Inoue Orihime/Ishida Uryuu, Kuchiki Byakuya/Kuchiki Hisana, Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: IchiRuki Month 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858906
Comments: 47
Kudos: 78





	1. An Advantageous Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Day 8, East of the Sun and West of the Moon
> 
> Yes, yes I did decide to re-tell the fairy tale. Please mind the rating, which applies to chapter 2.

[](https://ibb.co/9wdHb6J)  


Long, long ago, two young women lived in an old, ramshackle cottage on the edge of a forest. Despite their poverty and somewhat rural surroundings, the two were happy together. Hisana, the older sister, was gentle in manner and soft of voice. She earned a meager living selling her skills as a seamstress. Rukia, the younger sister, was the prettier of the two, with black hair softer than silk and violet eyes that would have been the envy of any who saw them (there was rarely anyone to see them, so far into the woods). But there was more than just a pretty face to Rukia, who had learned from her father how to hunt and use a sword. She hunted to keep herself and her sister fed. Their parents had died when Rukia was only twelve, and she still carried the blade her father gave her: a katana with a white hilt and two crescent moon menuki.

When Hisana was nineteen, she caught the attention of a gentleman from the nearby manor with her gentle ways and her soft voice. Soon, Lord Byakuya Kuchiki fell in love. She, blushing shyly, accepted his proposal of marriage and Hisana and Rukia moved into the somewhat run-down manor.

Sadly, their newfound happiness was not unmarred: only two years into their marriage, Hisana became ill with a wasting sickness. Rukia sang to comfort her and read her books from Byakuya’s library, while Byakuya summoned every healer and every physician from as far away as his messengers could carry a letter. It was to no avail. Byakuya’s resources began to run low, and Hisana grew ever weaker. He let the manor’s servants go, no longer able to pay their wages.

One day, in the early morning light, there came a loud pounding on the manor door. Rukia hurried to open it and gasped, for on their doorstep stood a large, russet-furred bear. She reached for her sword to chase him away, but the bear rumbled and asked, “Is the lord of this manor at home?”

“You…you can talk?” Rukia gasped, and her hand fell from the hilt of her blade. She was dressed plainly, in an old tunic and worn leggings, and her hair was tied back for she had been practicing with her sword.

The bear snorted. “Obviously, little midget. Where is the man who lives here?”

“And why should I get him for you when you are so rude to me?” Rukia demanded.

“I have a proposition for him that he will find appealing,” the bear grumbled.

Rukia eyed him skeptically, and she opened the door wider. “Come in, then, and I will find Lord Kuchiki.” The bear lumbered past her into the spacious entry hall of the manor, and Rukia hurried away to find Byakuya.

When the tall, handsome Lord Kuchiki strode into the room, he had been forewarned by his sister-in-law of the talking bear in his home. “I am the lord of this manor,” he said, “Byakuya Kuchiki. What business do you have here, bear of the forest?”

The bear bobbed his head in a brief nod. “I would have your sister-in-law for a wife, for I have been told that she is fair of face and has eyes like amethysts.”

Byakuya raised an eyebrow. “And what will you give in return, if she is willing to go with you?”

“I will give you enough gold that you will never want for anything,” the bear claimed.

Byakuya’s eyes widened. “I must speak to Rukia,” he said, and called for her.

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Rukia said when the proposition was put to her. “A _bear_? And anyway, he insulted me when I was shocked that he could talk.”

The bear, for his part, looked rather startled at the fact that the woman he’d heard was so pretty had rather more backbone than he’d expected (the rumors _had_ been true about her loveliness, however). Still, he persisted, “I can save your sister’s life.”

Byakuya and Rukia stilled. “Is that true?” Rukia asked quietly, gaze meeting his. The bear’s eyes were deep amber in color, and there was a compassionate look in them for all that he was an animal.

“There is a healer, two hundred leagues south of here. He can heal your sister of her wasting sickness. I will bring him to you, as part of your bride-price,” the bear promised.

Rukia breathed in, slow and deep, and looked at Byakuya. “I will do it, then,” she said. “But you must bring the healer here before I will go with you.”

The bear nodded and padded back toward the entrance to the manor. “I will return in three days.” Then he was gone.

“Do not tell Hisana of this,” Rukia begged when the door was shut. “She will say that I must not go.”

Byakuya, whose stoicism hid a heart that loved his wife to distraction, said only, “I expect the bear will make you keep your promise to him.”

The bear returned, as promised, in three days carrying a blond man in green and black garb on his back. “Here is the healer who will save your wife,” he said to Byakuya as the healer dismounted.

The healer was an odd but youthful-looking man. He held a cane in one hand and a large bag in the other, though he didn’t seem to need the cane much. Though it was winter, he wore a pair of geta on his feet.

“Urahara Kisuke at your service,” the man introduced with a tip of his green and white-striped hat. “Shall I see your patient, then?”

Rukia brought Urahara upstairs to her sister’s room, which was dark and smelled faintly of sickness. “Hisana,” she called, “I have brought someone to see you. He says he may be able to help you feel better.”

Her voice was soft, but the bear’s good ears heard her from where he stood, still, in the hall, and he rumbled under his breath that when she wasn’t yelling at him, she had a pretty voice.

“Aa…I think we may be beyond that, but I know that you and Byakuya continue to hope,” Hisana whispered from the darkness of her bed.

Kisuke set his bag down and strolled over to the far wall. With his cane to help he pulled open the heavy curtains that covered an enormous glass window, and light flooded into the room. “Help me open this, miss,” he called to Rukia, and she hurried to do so. When fresh air flowed into the room along with the light, Kisuke ambled back to the bed, bag back in hand, and looked over his patient. “Hmm, hmm, let me see.” He pulled several strange items from his bag and a few familiar ones.

With Rukia watching him like a hawk, he listened to Hisana’s lungs and heart, and examined her eyes and mouth. He prodded her belly and tested how her legs responded when he tapped her knees. Then he looked up at Rukia, smiling, and said, “I have seen this before, and I can help your sister.”

Tears sprang to Rukia’s eyes, but she blinked them away and bowed deeply in thanks.

By mid-afternoon Hisana was already breathing more easily. Kisuke had made her breathe in smoke from a strange burning substance and then given her something to drink that she claimed tasted like muddied clams. But some of the light was coming back into her eyes.

The healer met with Byakuya and Rukia in the parlor off the hallway and described his treatments, “We must get her into the fresh air and sun whenever possible,” he admonished. “We must build her strength back up; she’s been in that bed far too long. And I will stay until she is well enough to breathe without my medicines.”

Byakuya nodded his acquiescence. “I am happy to host you. Come, I will find a room where you can stay.”

That left Rukia and the bear alone. The bear rumbled at her quietly, “I have kept my promise. Will you come with me, and be my bride?”

Rukia stiffened, but she looked up toward the stairs, beyond which her sister lay breathing more fully and easily than she had in two years, and then met the bear’s eyes. “I will keep my end of the bargain, bear. But what priest will marry a bear and a human woman?”

The bear snorted lightly. “The healer, Urahara, is also a priest. He knows what I—” the bear’s mouth shut suddenly, and he threw his head downwards and coughed as if he was choking. Finally, he said, “He will do it.” The bear stared at her again. “I will return in three days so that you may prepare.”

True to his word, the bear returned once more in three days. Hisana grew stronger with each of those passing days, and on the morning of the wedding she managed to take up the hem and sleeves of her own wedding dress so that Rukia could wear it. “It’s not the gown I would have wanted to sew for you,” she murmured softly as she helped Rukia to dress, “But I am glad that I am here to see you wearing it.”

As weddings went, it wasn’t exactly a lively affair. Hisana and Byakuya were the only witnesses. The healer who claimed to be a priest presided over a ceremony during which Rukia stiffly agreed to marry a _bear_ , and the bear solemnly agreed to take care of her for all of his days.

There was no wedding feast, for the bear insisted that they must reach his home before nightfall. Hisana cried as Rukia bid her goodbye.

She met the bear outside, wearing a black traveling dress and midnight blue cape, for it was still winter. Her sword was strapped to her hip and she carried a single traveling bag. “You never told me where your home is,” Rukia pointed out.

The bear grunted. “It is several hours from here. Get on.”

“Get…on what, exactly?”

“On _me_ , midget.”

Rukia gaped at him, but then she huffed and threw one leg over his back and hoisted herself up with his fur.

“Are you afraid?” the bear asked.

Rukia just gripped the fur by his shoulders in her hands. “No.”

“Good. Hold on tight.” The bear took off at a much faster pace than she expected, and soon they were deep within the forest, where no human dared to go. Rukia held on tight the whole time as they passed trees much taller than any she had seen before. The ground was covered in snow and icicles hung from the pine trees. The bear occasionally had to dodge a snowbank or a tree in their path.

The bear stopped once, and they both drank from a stream of ice-cold water. Rukia ate an apple from her bag and offered a second with the bear, who rumbled, “Keep it.” Rukia generously refrained from hitting him with it instead when he growled at her to get on his back a minute later.

Several hours into their journey the woods began to thin, and late-afternoon sunlight broke through the treetops. The bear sniffed the air and slowed down as they reached the forest’s edge. Rukia, having drifted into a daze from the monotonous movement, looked up as sunlight hit her face in full.

Not far from them stood a castle of black stone on a hill. Tall stone walls surrounded the building and hid the first floor from her sight, but two more rose above it. The castle roof curved gracefully, giving the building a welcoming feel despite the fortified wall and dark color of the building. The bear broke into a run and Rukia yelped, holding on tightly. They reached the castle walls in only a few more minutes. The gates opened and the bear ambled inside.

There were no guards or servants that Rukia could see, and she looked around curiously as the bear stopped and she dismounted. “Is this your home?” she finally asked.

“Yes,” the bear said, and didn’t elaborate.

“How does a bear own a castle, exactly?”

“Come inside, midget,” the bear said instead of answering, and Rukia rolled her eyes as she followed him through a set of ornate double doors.

“It’s Rukia, not “midget”. I’m not that short,” she objected.

The bear snorted. “You are tiny compared to me.” He stopped in the grand entryway and sat on his haunches. “This is your home as well. You are free to roam wherever you like. You’ll find a bell on the dining table in the next room. Ring it and ask for whatever you need.” He turned away and began to walk down the other hallway.

Rukia startled. “Are you just leaving me here?” she asked.

“I have been away for too long. I have much to do,” the bear’s voice echoed back through the cavernous stone hallway.

Tired from traveling all day and hungry – all she’d had since early morning was that apple – Rukia stepped hesitantly into the dining room. As the bear had said, there was a small silver bell with a black handle at the head of the table. She set her bag down on the chair to her left and unfastened her cape, then rang the bell. “I…I would like something to eat, please,” she requested.

Nothing happened, and Rukia began to feel rather silly. Was the bear playing a _prank_ on her? But after a few minutes, a warm bowl of soup appeared on the placemat in front of her, along with a soup spoon and tea set. She unbuckled the belt holding her sword and set it down carefully.

_The soup and tea just…appeared. I know he’s a talking bear, but what manner of magic is this?_ she asked herself. Her stomach growled and Rukia sat down, pulling a napkin towards herself and picking up the spoon. She dipped it into the steaming soup and then sipped. “Oh!” The soup was some of the best she’d ever had. It was relatively simple despite that: just small pieces of cooked beef mixed with lots of chopped vegetables in a thick, rich broth. Freshly baked bread on a plate appeared to her left, and Rukia murmured a somewhat uneasy “thank you” as she tore off a piece.

When she had eaten her fill and drunk the entire pot of tea, she stood and buckled her sword back on, then rang the bell again. “Thank you,” she said, “I…I think I would like to go lie down.”

There was a sensation of _movement_ , and Rukia was suddenly in another part of the castle entirely: a large bedroom with an opulent four-poster bed made up with a fluffy-looking blue comforter and more pillows than she’d ever seen in her life. Her bag appeared and dropped onto a narrow chair in a corner of the room.

After placing her sword next to the bed, she explored the bedroom briefly and found a door to a much more _modern_ bathing room than she’d expected. Thankful that the necessary wasn’t halfway across the castle, she made use of that and then removed her dusty traveling dress. Rukia used a pump that brought fresh water pouring into a small basin to wash up and, clad in only the white shift that she’d been wearing underneath her dress, crawled into bed. The sun set.

In the middle of the night, rustling woke her and Rukia bolted upright. The room was pitch dark and she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. “Who – is someone there?” she called out and reached for her blade.

“It’s your husband,” a low voice said as her hand brushed against the hilt. He sounded very much like the bear, but the rumble inherent in the bear’s voice was gone, replaced by a rough timbre that nevertheless was _softer_ than the bear’s.

Rukia turned toward the voice as a hand reached for her and brushed against her other arm. She jolted backwards and nearly fell off the bed before that same hand wrapped around her forearm – not hard, but firm enough to keep her from falling to the floor. “But – you have _hands_. I married – I married a _bear_ , didn’t I?”

“Would you prefer a bear in your bed?” the voice asked, humor coming into his tone.

“ _No!_ ” Rukia practically shouted. “It’s just…startling.”

The voice chuckled. “I can go somewhere else if you want. Although you are in _my_ bed.”

She felt her cheeks heat despite the darkness, and was grateful that whoever owned that voice and hand (her husband? Someone playing a trick on her?) couldn’t see her. “I rang the bell and asked for somewhere to sleep. I didn’t realize I was sent to your rooms,” she said quietly.

“Well you did marry me,” he said.

“Which means you’re here for…” Rukia swallowed and stayed very still.

“That can wait,” her husband said roughly. “I’ve traveled long distances in the last week and I’m very tired. Go back to sleep – I promise you won’t need to use your sword to hold me off.”

She forced herself to let go of the sword. True to his word, her husband didn’t lay a finger on her, and slept quietly through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image for this fic created by [Hesesols](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hesesols/pseuds/Hesesols)


	2. Coming Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia gets to know her new home, and her new husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter depicts explicit sex between two consenting (and married) adults.

In the morning he was gone, and the only thing to show that he had ever been there at all was an indent – human shaped – on the pillow. Rukia rose early, aching from their journey, and gave herself a sketchy wash in the basin. When she returned to the bedroom a bright blue dress was draped across the comforter, along with a clean shift and hose. “I didn’t bring any of that with me,” she remarked quietly. “I usually practice with my sword in the mornings,” she said more loudly, “but thank you for setting out clothes for me. I will change into them when I am finished.” It felt ridiculous to talk to air, but clearly things were being moved around the castle _somehow_.

Rukia reached for her pack and pulled out her old tunic and leggings. She bound her breasts flat and strapped her sword on, then pulled her boots onto her feet and stepped into the hallway. Since she’d been taken to her – their – bedroom magically the night before, she wasn’t sure where to go – but _down_ seemed like a good direction.

Eventually she did find stairs, and within a few minutes Rukia was in the courtyard. She was used to practicing on her own, and for the next hour she stretched and drilled herself the way any soldier might have. Afterwards, she climbed the two flights of stairs again – legs protesting all the while – and bathed _properly_. The dress was still on the comforter, but it looked slightly different – the arms had been shortened. “Ah,” she said. “Thank you for noticing that my arms are not so long.”

Dressed in what had been laid out for her, Rukia descended the stairs again and sat down at the dining table. She rang the bell and politely requested breakfast.

After her morning meal, Rukia wasn’t entirely sure what to do with herself. She took the bell with her just in case, tucking it into a pocket in the dress, and wandered around the castle. She explored high and low, finding a sizable library and several sitting rooms, as well as lots of empty bedrooms. She didn’t see a single other person, including her new husband (in either bear _or_ human form).

The evening followed the same pattern as the previous night: she ate dinner alone and, still tired from her journey, was whisked off to bed early. She dozed in bed and bolted awake late in the night when the covers rustled, and _he_ joined her again.

“I didn’t see you today,” she said into the darkness.

The bed shifted – he was turning, she thought. “I was working,” he explained. “Did you enjoy exploring the castle?”

Rukia smiled a little. “It’s very large. And you have such a wonderful-looking library! But – is there no one else here?” _Were you lonely before taking me here?_ she wanted to ask but held back.

“You’re welcome to use the library as often as you’d like,” he offered. “And if you would like anything for your sword practice, you can ring the bell and ask. There are pells somewhere, I think.” He seemed to ignore her question about the presence of others.

“I’d like that,” she agreed. Then Rukia turned and faced him in the bed. “We’ve been married for two days and I don’t even know your name. Or what my family name is now that we’re married.”

“You can call me Ichigo,” the voice said. “And our family name is Kurosaki.”

“Like the…strawberry?”

“Che. It means “one who protects”, midget,” he huffed, irritation strong in his voice.

“Well you have red fur during the day, how was I supposed to know it wasn’t a reference to that?” she shot back.

He just snorted.

“Rukia Kurosaki,” she murmured, softening a little. “It’s a good name.”

The bed shifted again, and she felt his heat draw closer to her. His mouth touched hers, gently, and he had human lips that were warm and soft against hers. Rukia felt her cheeks heat but she returned his kiss and leaned in when his hand came up to cup her cheek. She tensed a bit when his hand brushed along her hip, but he whispered against her mouth, “That can wait.” He went no further than that, and only bid her a goodnight and let his arm drape over her waist as they slept.

Her days blended into one another, and Rukia settled into a routine. She continued to train with her sword in the morning before breakfast and spent the rest of the morning in the library. Her husband’s library was three times the size of Byakuya’s, and Rukia easily occupied herself with making her way through much of his collection.

In the afternoons, she explored the castle. It was a shockingly large building, even compared to the Kuchiki Manor. Every room she saw was furnished as if _someone_ lived there, even the servants’ quarters high in the eaves, but she never saw a soul. It was as if the castle had been abandoned, and Rukia began to wonder if some terrible thing had happened to Ichigo’s people.

No matter how many rooms in the castle she explored, she never found him during the day. Ichigo joined her only late in the night, when their room was so dark that she couldn’t see her fingers even just an inch from her face. Each night they talked softly for a time. She soon learned what questions he was willing to answer and which ones he wasn’t; anything related to why, exactly, he ran around in bear-form during the day was off the table. In fact, it almost seemed like he _couldn’t_ answer those questions, no matter how she phrased them. Each time it happened, the feeling of _wrongness_ , like pain in her back teeth, grew.

“What’s your favorite book in the library?” Questions like those were safe, and she could _sense_ his smile when she asked them.

“There is a book of sonnets that I enjoy. I’ve read it so often that I’ve memorized some of them.”

“What do you _do_ all day? Do you run around to other castles like this one?”

That drew a laugh – she liked the way he laughed. “No. This is my only home. This is…not the safest part of the country. I patrol for trespassers.” There was a pause. “Occasionally I travel to the nearest villages for supplies.”

_At least their food was coming from somewhere_ , Rukia thought, and wasn’t fairy food. But – “Aren’t the villagers scared because, well…”

“They’ve become used to me,” Ichigo said quietly.

While they talked, he would kiss her and stroke her skin, a little more each night. Rukia discovered she liked the feel of his lips on hers and quickly learned how to return his kisses. But she was still nervous of other things and whenever she tensed up or showed even the slightest hint of fear, he whispered, “That can wait.” True to his word, he went no further and only held her close as they slept.

Until one night, almost two months into their strange marriage, when he said those words and Rukia whispered back, “But what if I don’t want to wait?”

The answering smile against her lips was wide and he kissed her much more deeply than he had any other night. “Then we don’t have to,” he said, and for the first time his hands skimmed beneath the linen shift she wore.

Rukia shivered at the touch of his fingers, callused and strong, on her hips and waist. Her hands reached for him as well, and she outlined him by feel as she had been hesitant to do before. His arms were strong and muscular under her fingers, and his shoulders were firm to the touch. He was bigger than her; she could tell by how her arms stretched as she touched him.

His mouth came down to find her neck and she shivered as he licked and lightly bit the spot between her shoulder and neck. The shocking pleasure of it jolted through her body and Rukia’s mouth dropped open in a low moan. The noise clearly excited him, because Ichigo rucked up the shift around her waist and his hands drifted up to cup her breasts. _That_ made her gasp and she felt him grin against her neck. “Can you take this off for me?” he murmured into her skin and tugged at the shift lightly.

Rukia pulled away from him and tugged the cream-colored garment up and over her head, then let it drop to the floor beside the bed. There was a similar rustling from her husband’s side of the bed, and when she came back into his arms she shivered with pleasure, for he’d removed his own nightshirt and his skin was hot against hers.

Despite their closeness all they did was kiss for a time, laying side by side, though he was much more _thorough_ than he’d ever been before. His tongue slid against hers and Rukia slid a hand to the back of his neck so that she could keep him close whenever his mouth drifted away. But eventually his lips drifted lower and he said quietly, “I’d like to touch you.”

Heat flared into her cheeks but Rukia whispered, “ _Yes_ ,” and her body shivered a little with anticipation. She knew the _basics_ , of course, but she wasn’t prepared for the way his lips kissed down her body. He stopped to worship at her breasts, licking and sucking her nipples into peaks, before continuing his way down. His fingertips drifted along her skin, raising goosebumps wherever they touched.

His hand slid along her hip and Ichigo pushed, gently, so that she was lying on her back. Rukia’s eyes shut tightly and she tensed – she’d been told this part was supposed to hurt – but his hand slid lower and then lifted her ankle so that it was draped over his shoulder. “What--?”

A soft chuckle echoed up from between her legs. “Trust me,” he whispered. His fingers touched her lower lips and Rukia yelped a little in shock, but he just stroked softly until she relaxed. “Trust me,” Ichigo whispered again, and his fingers slid between, seeking wet heat. The bed shifted again under his weight and Rukia’s hips jerked up as his _tongue_ lapped against her skin, licking up her wetness and drifting over her clit.

She fell into a haze of pleasure as he knelt between her legs. Soft moans filled the air and Rukia barely recognized them as her own voice. Her hand reached and as if sensing what she needed, Ichigo’s free hand found hers, letting her hold on tightly while a finger from his other hand slipped inside and crooked upwards. Her breathing hitched as Ichigo whispered “Yes, come for me,” against her heated skin and then closed his lips around her clit and _sucked_ while he slipped a second finger in beside the first.

Rukia’s vision went white as pleasure rocketed through her. Her mouth opened on a long, low moan and her hips jerked against his mouth, against his fingers. He licked her through it until she slumped back against the bed, panting, and then his body slid back up beside hers.

His mouth found hers again, and she blushed, tasting herself against him, but dove into the kiss with such eagerness that he chuckled even as his arm wrapped around her and pulled her tightly against him. “You liked that, then?” he asked unnecessarily, and grinned against her lips when all she could do was moan her agreement. His body shifted closer to hers and Rukia felt his cock, hard and hot against her. Her cheeks filled with heat from yet another blush, and she wondered if it was possible to die from having too much blood rush to one’s head.

“I don’t…” she finally whispered.

“It can wait, if you don’t want to,” he whispered back, although he sounded a little strained, but Rukia shook her head quickly.

“I just don’t know what to do,” she clarified.

“Oh, well then,” Ichigo murmured. His hand found hers and he squeezed, gently, before bringing it lower. “Like this.” He wrapped her hand around his cock.

Rukia squeezed experimentally, making him gasp, and another little jolt of pleasure filled her. She _liked_ that noise. She squeezed again, and at his somewhat strangled moan of approval, began to pump, sliding her hand along his length as Ichigo clutched her close and groaned into her shoulder.

Finally, his mouth met hers in a searing kiss and he tipped her onto her back, gently pulling her hand away and bringing it up to rest on his shoulder. “I want to…” He seemed to hesitate and Rukia leaned up to kiss him. “I want to be inside you. Please?”

The words sent a pang of pleasure through her core and Rukia swallowed hard. “Yes,” she whispered. “I want…I want you inside me, Ichigo.”

He sighed into her mouth – from relief or his own pleasure, she wasn’t sure. “This probably _will_ hurt for a minute,” he admitted, even as his fingers trailed along one of her legs.

“It’s alright,” she murmured. His fingers trailed through her wetness, and though she couldn’t see what he was doing, she thought he might be coating himself with it.

Then there was a blunt sort of pressure at her entrance, and Rukia tensed up. Ichigo felt it and his lips slanted against hers, kissing her over and over while his fingertips rubbed her clit until she relaxed again. He pressed forward once more and Rukia’s mouth opened on a deep gasp as his cock pushed into her, stretching her much wider than his fingers had and filling her in a way that she felt down to her very bones. She winced in pain and tensed against him again, making Ichigo still his hips while his fingers continued to rub. He whispered soothing noises into her mouth.

Eventually, Rukia shifted her hips experimentally, the movement making Ichigo slide a little deeper into her. She could feel him, holding himself as still as he could over her. “It’s…it’s okay, I think,” she whispered.

He pressed closer and then pulled back again, and suddenly it was _much better_ than just okay. Heat built between them as Ichigo thrust into her in long, slow strokes. Instinctively her legs came up around his waist and Ichigo growled her name in approval while his fingers slipped between them, to where they were joined, and _rubbed_ , making her moan his name in turn. Time lost meaning; Rukia wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, him filling her and her wrapped around him, body shaking with pleasure.

His thrusts grew shorter and sharper, more urgent, as he whispered into her mouth and asked her to come with him. His body shook against hers and his hips thrust erratically as he groaned her name, spilling himself into her. “ _Come with me_ ,” he whispered harshly, and Rukia fell apart, shuddering through a second orgasm in his arms.

Ichigo kissed her frantically and pulled them onto their sides so that he wouldn’t crush her, his hands shaking a little as he ran them over her skin. They were both damp with sweat, both breathing as if they’d been sprinting, and Rukia thought her heart might beat out of her chest.

Eventually their heartbeats slowed and when Ichigo pulled her close again Rukia shifted to lay her head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “That…that was much better than I expected,” she finally whispered, and there was a hint of joy, of laughter in her voice.

Ichigo cuddled her closer and admitted, “For me, too. I’ve never…”

She jolted a little. “Really?”

There was an answering chuckle. “It’s a very _complete_ library.”

“O-oh. Maybe…maybe I’ll have to spend more time in it.” Rukia smirked when the arm around her tightened with approval.

They drifted off to sleep holding one another, but when Rukia woke late the next morning she was once more alone in bed, with only the still-warm sheets beside her and a lingering soreness to show that she hadn’t just been dreaming.

Still, the tenor of their relationship had changed: Rukia reached for him as often as he reached for her, and weeks of nights filled with joy and intimacy made up, in part, for the loneliness of the daytime.

Eventually, though, she began to wonder about her sister and her brother-in-law, about whether Hisana was still getting better with the healer’s help. And that wondering fed her daytime loneliness so much that one night, Ichigo came to bed to find her crying instead of reaching for him eagerly.

He took her into his arms and held her until her sobs ceased, then asked quietly, “What troubles you, little midget?”

Rukia pinched his side in retaliation for the nickname, making him grunt, but she admitted, “I miss my family. And it’s lonely here, with you gone during the day and no one to speak to or even _see_.”

Ichigo’s hand rubbed her arm in a comforting gesture. “Well, the first part of that is easily fixed. I can take you to visit your family.” He kissed her forehead. “But I have to ask you not to spend time alone with your sister.”

Rukia startled and her hand touched his in inquiry, but Ichigo didn’t answer and she finally sighed, “I suppose this is one of the things you can’t tell me.” His lips pressed to her forehead in answer and his other arm came around to hold her tightly.


	3. Three Drops of Tallow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia travels to see her sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not kind to Rukia.

They left a few days later for the Kuchiki manor, and the trip was faster than when Rukia first came to Ichigo’s castle, for it was spring and the snow had melted away. Flowers bloomed wherever she looked and though she still had to cling to the bear’s back, she found the trip much more enjoyable.

They reached the manor in early afternoon and Rukia slid from her husband’s back easily. “I will return in three days,” he said calmly. “But remember what I said, Rukia.”

“I won’t forget,” Rukia said quietly. Though he was still her husband it was impossible to kiss a bear goodbye, and so instead she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. He rubbed his face against her shoulder gently and then ambled off – though she wasn’t sure where he was going.

Rukia looked up at the manor; it was in much better repair than it had been so many months ago, with new paint on the walls and a brand-new door with an iron knocker. She had to stand on her tiptoes to knock and when the door opened a modestly attired maid smiled down at her and welcomed her inside.

No sooner had the door shut than Hisana hurried down the stairs, lifting her skirt to keep from tripping on it before she wrapped her arms around Rukia with a cry of joy. Byakuya was not far behind her, and though he greeted Rukia with less outward enthusiasm, his voice filled with warmth and his lips touched the top of her head lightly as he welcomed her home.

Rukia looked closely at her sister and then gave a cry of her own. Hisana’s lavender dress was high at the waist and loose, but it couldn’t entirely conceal the growing belly beneath. “You’re with child?” she asked softly and hugged her sister again when she nodded shyly. Rukia’s heart filled with an even greater fondness for her husband, who had traveled leagues upon leagues to bring the healer who had made Hisana well again.

“Come, Rukia, Hisana. We’ll have a late lunch and you can tell us all about your new life,” Byakuya offered.

After brushing the dust of travel from her clothes, Rukia walked arm in arm with Hisana into the dining room, which had been renovated in her absence and boasted a refreshed table and six new chairs. A second maid bustled in with a third place setting for Rukia, and soon they were eating a delicious and hearty meal of roasted chicken and all sorts of vegetables.

“Now, Rukia, you must tell us: how is your life with the bear? Is he kind to you? Where do you live?” Hisana asked eagerly.

Rukia smiled shyly and told them, “He is very kind to me. We live a long way from here, and it’s a very nice home with a huge courtyard where I can practice with my sword.” Then she reached over and squeezed Hisana’s hand. “But tell me, what have _you_ been doing? You look so well, both of you, and I’ve missed you!”

They talked long into the afternoon, retiring to the newly repaired sitting room when the day grew late. One of the maids brought tea, and Rukia sipped happily at the brew as her sister spoke of taking up sewing again, and her plans to create a whole wardrobe for the baby before it arrived.

Eventually, though, what the bear had warned of came to pass: Hisana followed Rukia to her room and tried to speak with her alone. There was no one whom she could pull into the conversation and so Rukia deflected, saying she was developing a bad headache and wanted to lie down.

Hisana was dissuaded, but her reprieve didn’t last for long. The next morning after breakfast she invited Rukia into her sewing room to see the pretty lavender dress she was sewing for a dance that was being held in the nearby town. Rukia was saved only when a maid summoned Hisana to take care of an urgent matter, and she made herself scarce until supper by roaming the grounds of the estate with Byakuya, who seemed puzzled by but not unwelcoming of her presence.

On the third day, Hisana caught her. “Now Rukia,” she said when it was just them in the sewing room again and Hisana had her on a pedestal wearing a half-finished dress of deep blue silk. “You really must tell me about your husband! All you’ve said is that he is _kind_ , but what is he really like? Is he gentle with you? What do you _do_ all day living with a bear?”

As if compelled, the story spilled out, and Rukia told her older sister of the bear who came to her at night as a man and treated her wonderfully even though the room was dark and she couldn’t see him. She told Hisana also of the loneliness of the big, empty castle and how she did wish she could see what her husband really looked like out of his bear guise.

“Ah, well. Of course you can see him, little sister,” Hisana soothed as she adjusted the pins in the hemline and then straightened up. “And you should see him! What if he’s a troll, or some other monster shaped like a man?” She helped Rukia out of the dress.

As Rukia pulled her rust-hued dress back on, Hisana rummaged in her sewing kit and came up with a stubby candle. “Here, take this. Hide it by your bedside one night and when he is asleep, light the candle and look at him.”

Reluctantly, Rukia took the candle. And when the bear returned to carry her home, she hid the candle in the pocket of her dress.

“Did your sister get you alone?” the bear asked when they were traveling through the forest once more.

“Yes,” Rukia admitted. “She wanted to sew a new dress for me, and she wouldn’t let any of the maids stay in her sewing room.”

The bear grumbled, “I hope you don’t listen to what she told you.”

“I won’t,” Rukia whispered, and pressed herself against his back as he ran.

But curiosity ate at her. Rukia held out for eight nights. On the ninth night after their return from the manor, when Ichigo came to bed she reached for him eagerly and made love with him so passionately that he could barely keep his eyes open long enough to pull his white night shirt back on before falling asleep. Rukia held him tightly until he was deeply asleep, and then slowly extricated herself, as if she were just rolling away from him.

She reached for the little stub of candle that her sister had given her and lit it with shaking hands. Rukia turned and held the candle up so that she could see her husband.

And, oh.

Oh.

He was _beautiful_ , just as her hands had told her he was. His face held a kind expression in sleep, and he had high brows and sculpted cheekbones that gave him a classically handsome look. His lips were neither too full nor too thin, just as her own lips had told her. And his hair – that did shock her a little, for she had never seen a man with hair like a sunset. His hair was orange, lighter than the russet of his fur as a bear, and fell into his eyes as he slept.

Rukia’s heart seemed to spill over, for she had already been most of the way in love with him. Seeing his face, knowing that he looked as wonderful as he seemed, that he wasn’t _tricking_ her into loving a troll, gave her the final push into love – she just hoped he felt the same way she did.

Possessed by the desperate need to kiss him, Rukia leaned down and her lips brushed his.

Three drops of tallow from the candle fell onto his shirt.

He woke, and his eyes were honey-amber and soft with his love for her before he saw the candle and realized what she’d done.

Ichigo cast the candle away from them both and it fell to the stone floor, guttering out and throwing them into darkness. “What have you _done_ ,” he demanded, and his voice broke. “I told you not to listen to your sister! If you had only held out for this year, this one year, I would have been free.” He lurched away from her and Rukia gave a cry.

“I don’t understand! Ichigo, _please_.” Her arms reached for him and though they were in darkness, she caught his waist and tried to hold on.

“I was a prince. My stepmother cast a spell on me.” His voice was low and dull. “She made me a bear by day, and a man by night. She cursed me to that half-life until I found a woman who would marry me and stay by my side for a year and a day.”

“But I _will_ stay by your side,” Rukia said.

“You’ve doomed us both,” Ichigo corrected roughly. “Everything between us is broken now, and I must leave you, and go to my stepmother’s castle. She will make me marry her daughter.”

“She wants you to marry your _stepsister?_ ” Rukia gagged a little. When Ichigo grunted a yes, she said, “I’ll go with you, then. I’ll scare off your stepsister and make your stepmother lift your curse if I have to do it with the point of my sword.”

Ichigo made a choking noise and when Rukia reached up to touch his face her fingertips came away wet with his tears. “You can’t come with me, Rukia. That’s not how this works.”

“Where is this castle, then? I’ll come find you,” she said, and held him tightly.

“It’s East of the Sun and West of the Moon,” Ichigo whispered. “You won’t find it.”

Fiercely, Rukia vowed, “I _will_ find you. And you will be strong, Ichigo, until I do. Don’t you dare marry anyone else until I get there.” She leaned up and kissed him, her lips equally as fierce as her words, and his arms wrapped around her tightly. They stayed like that long into the night, and her tears mingled with his.

The sound of birds woke Rukia in the morning. She shot up with a gasp and her hands dug into grass instead of a comfortable mattress.

Ichigo was gone.

Actually, the entire _castle_ was gone, as if it had never existed, though she sat upon the hill where it had been. She wore only her shift. Beside her were her boots, as well as her bag and sword. Rukia opened the bag and emptied it, right there on the ground. The leggings and tunic she brought with her spilled out, as did her cape. Her black traveling dress and the blue silk dress Hisana had made for her came out after them. The very bottom of the bag held a flint, a stoppered clay jar, her comb, and an eating knife. 

Rukia stripped off her shift and changed into the tunic, leggings, and boots. She threw her cape on and bundled the shift into the bottom of the bag. With her eating knife she cut a short strip of leather from the tie that held her bag shut and used it to tie her hair back. Everything else went back into the bag, although she eyed the silk dress skeptically. _Maybe I can trade it for food,_ she thought. Then she strapped on her sword, pulled her bag onto her back, and started walking.

Ichigo had told her the castle was east of the sun. Though Rukia wanted to weep for her foolishness and her loss, she strode forward into the dawning light and didn’t look back.

The last few months of her life had been like something out of a fairy tale, but Rukia was a peasant by birth and she still knew how to hunt and forage for food. It was late spring, so as the day wore on, she gathered dandelion leaves, fiddleheads, and ramps wherever she could find them on her journey, eating the ramps raw as she walked. Late in the afternoon she came across a stream and drank her fill. She filled her clay jar to the brim with water, although it didn’t hold very much.

When darkness fell, she was in a forest filled with large trees, and Rukia settled uneasily amongst them for the night. She started a small fire and cooked the fiddleheads and dandelion leaves on a hot rock. They made a poor meal, but she hadn’t yet seen anything she could properly hunt. Rukia slept badly, with her bag for a pillow and her cape for a blanket.

She went on that way for more than a week, following the sun as it rose in the morning, until the forest opened out onto grasslands. A short distance away there was a lofty crag and beneath it was a squat cottage. Hoping to find information and perhaps shelter for a short while, Rukia made for the cottage.

There was a woman with luxurious auburn hair and a very ample bosom sitting in a chair outside of the cottage, and she looked up as Rukia approached. “And what would a girl like you – for I see you are a girl despite the sword at your hip and the boy’s clothes you wear – be doing out here?” she asked by way of greeting.

Rukia bowed shallowly and when she rose, she answered, “I am looking for the castle that is East of the Sun and West of the Moon.”

The woman looked her over. “And why would you want to go there?” she asked.

“There is a prince there, who lives with his stepmother and is cursed to marry her daughter who is his stepsister,” Rukia said, and her hand touched the hilt of her blade. “I intend to rescue him.”

A laugh left the woman’s mouth, but then she looked at Rukia more closely. “Ah, I know who you are. Well, I don’t know where the castle is, but I do know that the prince is there. Come inside, eat your fill and sleep, and in the morning, you can borrow my horse.”

Rukia did as Rangiku – for that was the woman’s name – told her, and politely fended off offers of wine, for she needed to keep a clear head. In the morning when she strapped on her sword the woman handed her a golden apple. “This may be of some use to you later,” she said, as Rukia obediently tucked it into her bag. “Go east. My friend lives a few days’ ride from here, and she may be able to tell you where to find your prince.” She gave Rukia a loaf of wheat bread as well, and on the horse’s saddle she tied a bag full of grain.

Rukia bowed her thanks and mounted the horse, an old gelding with golden hair and a mane going white with age. She waved goodbye to Rangiku and set out. The air was warm, for it was already the middle of spring, but not uncomfortably so.

Almost as soon as Rukia was out of sight of the cottage ominous clouds gathered in the sky. Soon it started to rain, first a drizzle and then a downpour that quickly soaked through Rukia’s cape and the tunic underneath. The horse moved slowly on ground that was beginning to turn to mud under his feet, and Rukia bent over his neck to keep the rain from her eyes.

She wasn’t used to riding, for Ichigo didn’t have horses, and from time to time Rukia dismounted to walk the stiffness from her legs. With such bad weather they traveled slowly, but she rode straight through the first night, hoping that the rain would end. There were no houses, and the grasslands held nothing for them to shelter under. Given the heavy cloud cover, she couldn’t even navigate by the light of the moon, and lighting a flame was pointless under the onslaught of water. As the night wore on, the temperature dropped and soon Rukia was shivering in addition to being soaking wet.

The next morning dawned dark gray, and the rain continued to fall. Some areas of the ground were so saturated and soft that the horse’s hooves sunk in, and at times Rukia needed to dismount and lead him instead. The horse settled into a plodding walk and occasionally shook his head, spraying water on Rukia’s already-soaked form. Still, the horse made no effort to retreat to the west, as though he knew that Rukia’s mission was not one from which she could turn. It was starting to get dark again when they reached a forested area, and Rukia used her sword to cut down evergreen branches and create a somewhat pitiful lean-to.

“I deserve this,” she told the horse miserably as rain dripped onto her head from a gap in their shelter. “But I’m sorry you’ve gotten dragged into it.” The downpour made a fire impossible, and the bread Rangiku had given her was soggy and smelled of her leather bag. Rukia ate some of it anyway, knowing that she needed the nourishment. The horse’s grain had been a little better protected, but it still eyed its own evening meal with disfavor. She slept fitfully; it was hard to find any kind of comfortable position while soaked through and being rained on. And the horse smelled – even the strong pine odor of the lean-to couldn’t disguise that.

“At least there was no shortage of water,” she said out loud the next morning. And it was true: all she needed to do was leave her clay jar uncovered and rainwater fell into it. Or look up and open her mouth. They set out again, still soaked through, and Rukia navigated by the direction of the moss on the trees since the sun was still hidden by sodden gray clouds.

It was poor horsemanship and Rukia knew it, but she urged the horse on as fast as he would go. Once they were out of the forest again there were no other structures as far as the eye could see, and she didn’t know how far it was to the home of Rangiku’s friend – or even if she had missed it somehow. There was no path, no road, only endless tall grass soaked and flattened in places by a deluge.

The rain poured down in sheets, and Rukia began to think that perhaps the gods themselves were trying to drown her. Time slipped and slid like her feet in the mud whenever she needed to lead the horse instead of ride. She no longer knew how long she had been traveling and hoped that she was on the right path. Shapes in the rain dissolved into nothing as Rukia drew closer, and sometimes the world tilted ominously. The last of the bread ran out on the third day out from Rangiku’s home.

Worse still, in the grasslands, there was little she could forage – in fact, this far east of home she didn’t recognize many of the plants at all. The horse’s grain was a sad, soggy mess but at least he could derive some nourishment from the grass around them.

Her waterlogged backpack sat heavily on her shoulders and the wet fabric of her leggings, pushed up against the saddle and body of the horse, rubbed her inner thighs and calves raw nearly to the point of bleeding. Her hands _were_ scraped and bloodied from holding the wet leather of the reins, but she had nothing to bandage them with and so just kept going. Rukia slept a-horse the third night of their journey together. She spent a night under the questionable cover of low bushes but slept little and lay awake with branches poking and pricking at her until the first light of dawn. Her legs were one long ache from hip to ankle and her clothes clung wet and freezing to her body.

Toward the end of the fifth day they approached another tall crag, under which sat another cottage. Rukia urged the horse forward; he whickered tiredly but together they plodded through the rain to the relative shelter of the crag. She suspected they were a rather pathetic sight.

They came to a halt just outside of the cottage. A tall woman with black hair braided down the front of her chest sat on a bench on the porch, carding wool with a golden carding comb, and she looked up as Rukia arrived. “And what are you doing so far from home, lass?” she asked with a calm, sweet voice. “For lass I know you are despite your sword and clothes.”

Tiredly, Rukia wondered if everyone who lived east of home was old-fashioned and didn’t understand that sometimes women had to wear pants. But she dismounted, stumbling a little as she stepped away from the horse before bowing, teeth chattering. When she rose Rukia said, “I am looking for the castle that is East of the Sun and West of the Moon, for there is a prince there whom I have vowed to rescue from his stepmother.”

The woman nodded sagely. “Yes, I know of the prince, though I do not know where the castle is. Come, let’s get you dry. Stable Rangiku’s horse beside mine; he deserves a good rest, I think. You can borrow my horse and see if my friend to the east can help you.”

Rukia was certain there was something wrong with her feet; they felt swollen and a little numb, like they didn’t quite belong to her anymore. But she bowed again and limped to the small stable, which to her relief was warm and dry. She toweled off the poor beast as best she could with the rags she found there, and then draped a blanket over him. Rukia fed him with the grain and hay she found in the stable. Then Rukia limped back to the cottage and joined the woman inside.

“My name is Retsu Unohana,” the other woman said by way of introduction. “I am a healer of people and beasts.”

Though Rukia wondered why she lived so far from anyone else, she was grateful when Retsu chivvied her out of her soaked clothing and into a hip bath by the fire. It felt good to properly wash off almost two weeks of travel and warm herself after days of being cold and wet. Afterwards, Retsu handed her a nightshirt and looked over her feet. They were pale and swollen, and some of the skin looked…well, Rukia didn’t want to look very closely, but her feet looked awfully discolored.

“A week in wet boots and clothing is very bad for you, Rukia,” Retsu chided gently, and rubbed salve on them before wrapping them in bandages. She also gave the younger woman more salve to spread on her abused legs and hands, and a tonic that eased her muscle aches. Finally, they hung her clothes and bag on a line to dry by the heat of the fire.

“There’s little I can do for your boots,” Retsu sighed. “But perhaps they will dry by morning.”

Rukia ate an embarrassingly large amount of a hearty soup prepared by Retsu, then stayed the night on a bedroll laid out by the fire and slept deeply. In the morning, the woman handed her a loaf of dark, seeded bread and some dried meat. Then she offered the golden carding comb. “This may be of some use to you,” she said as Rukia re-packed her bag. Miraculously, everything was dry, including her boots. Even more miraculous, it had finally stopped raining.

Retsu’s horse was russet-colored and reminded Rukia of Ichigo’s fur in his bear form, but she blinked back her tears and mounted the animal after giving Retsu her thanks. They traveled together for a long distance, and Rukia shared the water in her clay jar with the horse when she couldn’t find a stream, letting him drink from her cupped hands.

Without the rain it was easier, at least, to find a place to sleep at night – but she slept only a little better than she had in the pouring rain. Her dreams were filled with Ichigo: of the life they’d been building together, of the nights spent in one another’s arms. On the third night the dreams turned vicious.

_“You’ll never find me. And even if you could, I wouldn’t want you to.” His voice floated from the blackness. “This is your fault, Rukia. Your fault.”_

_A candle flared to life, illuminating a face half-bear and half man. “ **You** have cursed me to this half-life, Rukia.”_

_A roar filled the air and claws tore into her._

She slept little at night after that and instead dozed off in the saddle during the day.

On the fourth day of her journey from the healer’s house, Rukia and the horse were attacked by a wild pig that leapt from the forest floor to try and gore them. Her sword was in her hand in an instant and she tried to scare the pig off, not wanting to kill it unnecessarily. But when that didn’t work, she darted in as the pig attacked and killed it with a blow to the chest.

Though she had only her sword and eating knife, Rukia butchered the pig (a little clumsily, it must be said) while the horse waited restively. She wrapped several portions of raw meat in thick layers of leaves and left the rest behind regretfully. She hoped that another wild animal would eat it – it felt wasteful, but she couldn’t carry or store so much raw meat.

When they stopped to rest an hour later, she made a fire using her flint. She cooked some of the meat and ate it for her meal with foraged oyster mushrooms cooked on a hot rock. Vaguely, Rukia wished she had some salt. She left the rest of the meat to cook in the embers so that it would not rot, and when it was done, she doused and buried the remains of the fire before moving on.


	4. Carried by the Four Winds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia travels on, and enlists the winds themselves for help.

Two days later, and almost three weeks after Ichigo had been taken, Rukia and the russet horse reached a third crag with a cottage underneath it. A man with straight black hair down to his chin was spinning wool using a golden spinning wheel outside, and he greeted Rukia solemnly as she dismounted from the horse.

Rukia bowed in greeting and said, “Please, can you tell me where to find the castle that is East of the Sun and West of the Moon? I have traveled for weeks now to find the prince who is being kept there with his stepmother.”

The man ceased his spinning and looked Rukia over. “You look awful. Why do you want to find the prince?”

“I am going to rescue him before he is forced to marry his stepsister,” Rukia replied.

He pushed up the spectacles on his face with one fingertip. “Ah, I know who you are, lass and lass I can tell you are, despite the…clothes you wear.” There was something disdainful in his voice, but Rukia was too exhausted to care. “Stable Retsu’s horse beside mine and come inside.”

Rukia bowed her head and did as he said, giving the russet horse a good portion of grain and hay in the process. When she entered the cottage there was a basin full of warm water waiting for her, and the man shoved a nightshirt at her. “Bathe and then give me your clothes,” he demanded.

Thrilled at the prospect of washing with warm water and soap, Rukia waited until he walked back outside to strip and bathe herself as he asked. The soap was a little harsh for her hair, but she washed it anyway, eager to get days and days of travel off her scalp. When she was done, Rukia pulled the nightshirt on. She was so much shorter than him that it covered her nearly to her ankles.

Uryuu stepped back into the cottage and nodded at her. “I am Uryuu Ishida,” he finally introduced himself as he took her old clothes from her. “There is soup in the pot over the hearth. Serve yourself.”

Rukia emptied the basin of dirty water outside at his direction and found a bowl, then served herself from the large pot hanging in the hearth. As she ate, she watched Uryuu take apart her clothing and pull out a bolt of dark-colored cloth. “Are you…are you making new clothes?” she asked hesitantly.

He glanced over at her and gave a stiff nod. “You’ll need them where you’re going. They’ll be ready in the morning.”

He must have worked through the night, or else he was faster with a needle than even Hisana, for when Rukia woke there was a pile of neatly-folded clothing next to her. She changed into the new tunic and leggings; they fit perfectly. The fabric was clearly of a higher quality than her old belongings, which had been castoffs from one of Byakuya’s servants, and inexpertly shortened to fit her.

Uryuu handed her a large backpack already filled with two loaves of bread, as well as several apples. “Give me your old bag,” he said, and Rukia obediently transferred her belongings into the much larger bag before handing her old one to him.

Then there was a golden spinning wheel in his arms. “Take this as well,” Uryuu said. “You may find it useful. It collapses, see?”

Rukia wondered why all the people she’d met had golden things, but she thanked Uryuu with a bow and put the – apparently portable – golden spinning wheel into her new bag. She stuck her arms into the straps and shifted to ensure it was balanced on her back.

“I do not know where the castle is,” Uryuu said apologetically, “but perhaps the East Wind will know. Take my horse and travel east as far as you can.”

Rukia bowed her thanks and mounted the horse, a youthful gelding with a mane and body as black as night. They followed the rising of the sun for days. Rukia lost all sense of time; the days and nights blended into haze of riding, sleeping in lean-tos or under bushes, and dreaming of Ichigo. Occasionally her stomach reminded her that she needed nourishment, and Rukia ate in the saddle so as not to waste more time. But after many days they came to a cottage along the shore. Rukia dismounted and knocked on the door.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t an old man with shimmering, long white hair and a kind smile. “Are…are you the East Wind?” she asked hesitantly.

“I am, I am,” the old man said, and bowed to her in greeting. “What brings you so far east, young lady?”

“I am looking for the castle that is East of the Sun and West of the Moon,” Rukia said wearily. “I have traveled for a long time to rescue the prince who is being held there.”

“I see. Come, stable that horse and rest, and in the morning, we will go to the house of the West Wind, for she is stronger than I and may be able to get you there.”

Rukia slept in the calming home of the East Wind, and in the morning, true to his word, the man leapt into the sky and blew them both far to the west, where the West Wind dwelt. The East Wind waited as she knocked on the door of the house of the West Wind, and a petite woman with black bangs and long braids hanging down her back answered irritably. “And who are you?”

Rukia bowed quickly. “The East Wind brought me here, as you are stronger than he, and may be able to help me find the castle that is East of the Sun and West of the Moon.”

The West Wind looked her over and sneered. “So, you are the foolish girl who should have had the prince,” she said. “Why should I help you?”

Rukia straightened to her full height with fire in her violet eyes. “I made a vow to rescue the prince, and I will do it no matter the cost. Please, will you help me?”

The wind looked at her with contempt, but the East Wind chided, “Now, now, sister, she has come a very long way.”

“Fine,” the West Wind sighed. “I have never been so far, but I will take you to the East Wind’s husband. The South Wind is stronger than us and may be able to take you to your prince.” She blew and blew, and soon Rukia was flying to the south.

The West Wind dropped her none too gently on a tropical island in a warm sea and Rukia scrambled to her feet, brushing sand out of her hair and clothes as she went. There was a pretty looking hut not far from her, and Rukia knocked on the door as the wind flew away.

“Ah! And what is a pretty woman doing in my home, so far from everything else?” the man who answered it asked. He wore a garish pink floral robe and a straw hat. There was a saucer of something in his hand – a whiff of alcohol drifted over to Rukia.

Rukia looked at him a little skeptically but bowed just the same. “I am trying to find the castle East of the Sun and West of the Moon,” she said, “for the prince, whom I love, is being held there by his stepmother and will soon be forced to marry his stepsister.”

“Hmmm, hmm. I have never been to the castle; it’s too far even for me. But the North Wind may be able to take you there. We are older than him, but he is stronger than the rest of us. Did you see the East Wind on your way here? Does my husband look well?”

“Your husband was very kind to me, and he seems to be doing well,” Rukia assured him.

“Good! Now then…” The South Wind blew her into the air, and they traveled a long way to the north. Rukia was shivering as she landed upon a windswept stretch of ice, and she barely managed to bow to the South Wind before he left, presumably to get back to warmer climes.

The North Wind lived in an ice cave, and Rukia entered hesitantly, still shivering. She was not expecting to see a young man almost as short as she was, with spiky white hair and a scowl on his face.

“Who sent _you_ here?” he asked and glared at her.

Rukia bowed low, for she hoped very much that she was near her destination at last, and said, “I am looking for the castle that is East of the Sun and West of the Moon. Please, will you help me get there? The South Wind says that you are the strongest of all the winds.”

The North Wind seemed mollified by the praise and looked her over. “I blew a leaf there once, but it was very tiring. Still, you are very small. I can try and blow you there with me.”

“Please!” Rukia begged.

“You must sleep here tonight, then. It will be a very long journey tomorrow.”

The North Wind gave her a heavy fur blanket to sleep under and she gave him the last of her apples, which the North Wind was pleased by as he was rarely able to get any fruit so far north. He woke her early the next morning and soon they were flying on the back of an ice dragon.

This final trip was much longer than any of the other three, and Rukia dozed off a time or two despite the cold of the dragon, for she was so very weary from her travels. The dragon grew smaller as they passed over hills and valleys, over mountaintops, and finally over a seemingly endless sea.

Suddenly, before them was the castle, a grotesque thing of gray stone infiltrated by ivy and sporting crumbling towers. The North Wind gave one last blow and managed to drop Rukia on the sandy shore of the sea right beneath the castle. He landed beside her, exhausted, and fell upon the ground. “Aren’t you afraid?” he asked her when he could speak again.

Rukia touched the hilt of her sword. “I am not afraid. I will keep my vow,” she promised. Then: “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said, but the North Wind was already asleep.

She slept on the shore as close to the castle as she dared and, in the morning, she examined the building. Many guards seemed to come and go, and Rukia realized that she would not be able to fight her way inside. Using a particularly tall rock to hide herself from any passerby, Rukia changed from her tunic and leggings into her old black traveling dress. She put on her belt but instead of attaching her sword to it she slid the sheathed blade down the inside of her dress, between her shoulder blades, and tightened her belt to keep it in place. She took her hair down and did the best she could to tidy it.

Then Rukia went up to the castle windows and stood, playing with the golden apple.

Soon, a curvaceous woman with hair similar in color to Ichigo’s came up to her. “Hello,” she greeted in a high-pitched voice. “That golden apple you are playing with – what do you want for it?”

Rukia bowed a little in greeting and smiled her best, albeit false, smile. In a similarly high voice, she said, “It is not for sale for gold or money, miss.”

The girl frowned rather prettily, and she said, “If it is not for sale for gold or money, what do you want for it?”

Rukia pretended to think about that, and finally she said, “I heard you have a _prince_ in your castle.”

“We do! I’m going to marry him in a few days,” the orange-haired woman chirped. Rukia blinked, startled. _This_ was the stepsister? She looked…very pretty, and soft. She also looked a lot like Ichigo – like she could be his younger sister.

“Oh! Many congratulations to you,” Rukia said, and did her best to smile with her whole face. “I would very much like to meet a prince, as I’ve never been able to see one before. Could I meet _your_ prince, and spent an evening talking with him, in exchange for this golden apple?”

The woman frowned in thought, but finally she nodded her head and held her hand out for the apple. “Come to the castle doors in two hours,” she said, and smiled at Rukia again. “Ask for Princess Orihime.”

Two hours later, Rukia stood before the castle doors and knocked. A guard let her in, and Rukia met the princess at the foot of the stairs. She silently counted the number of guards she saw as the princess led her up a winding set of stairs and down a narrow hallway. Most of the guards were not human; they were strange creatures she had never seen before, with white masks on their faces. Orihime must have noticed her staring, because she giggled and said, “They are soulless spirits, but you needn’t worry about them so long as you mean my mother and I no harm.”

Rukia beamed up at her innocently. “Soulless?” she asked. “Does that mean they aren’t really alive?”

“Yes! Their souls have left their bodies. Mother says they make very good guards, that way.”

Rukia heroically refrained from shuddering. “How do they get that way?” she asked.

“I’m not really sure! Mother says it doesn’t hurt them, though!” Orihime reassured her.

Orihime graciously let her into the room where Ichigo was being kept, and Rukia bowed gracefully to the princess. “He may be a little tired from dinner,” Orihime admitted. “But I’m sure he will still be good company!” She shut the door behind her as she left, and Rukia hurried over to Ichigo, who was lying in the bed. A lamp at the bedside illuminated him, and she sighed, for he was a man again and just as handsome as she remembered. But his cheekbones were a little too prominent, his chin a little too pointed, and he looked somehow diminished in the lamplight.

“Ichigo!” she hissed, but her husband did not stir. She said his name louder and shook his shoulder, but he only snuffled a little and his head rolled to the side. “Ichigo, you _have_ to wake up,” she begged, and shook him more violently. But there was no response, and only shallow breathing showed her that he still lived.

Something was _very_ wrong. Rukia leaned in and pushed his mouth open slightly, then sniffed. _Valerian and passionflower,_ she thought. _And something else_. Ichigo had been drugged with sedatives. She looked around the room for something that might help – anything. A piece of paper to write on, or water to throw in his face. But the bedroom was small and spartan.

Rukia spent much of the night by Ichigo’s bedside, alternately calling for him and planning their escape. In the middle of the night she crept out of the room and scuttled through the castle passageways, looking for another exit besides the front gate. Along the way she destroyed several of the “soulless spirits” who were guarding the castle. The first one was an accident: it caught her sneaking through a secret passageway and Rukia had her sword up and slicing down through the creature’s masked head before she even registered fully what had caught her.

The body of the spirit dissolved and she thought she heard a whispered _thank you_ in her mind.

_The princess is wrong about whether it hurts them,_ Rukia thought. She frowned. Were they truly soulless? And Orihime - the girl seemed sweet, although her treatment of Ichigo was questionable. Did she really not know that the guards seemed trapped?

But the fact that their bodies dissolved gave Rukia an advantage, and she spent an hour thinning out the castle’s guards. They didn’t even seem to fight her all that hard – it was almost as if they _welcomed_ the release.

She returned to Ichigo’s room in the pre-dawn hours and cut a lock of her hair with her sword. She tied it with a thread from her dress and tucked it into Ichigo’s shirt in the hopes that he might see it when he woke. Shortly afterwards, the door opened and Princess Orihime entered.

“Oh! I hope you enjoyed your conversation with my prince,” she said. “But now I think it’s time for you to go to your own home, so that I can wake him with a kiss.” She giggled shyly and held the door open so that Rukia could leave.

Rukia bowed briefly. “Thank you for your hospitality, Princess Orihime,” she said, and kept a smile on her face until she was safely out of the castle and out of sight.

She slept briefly, hidden beneath an outcropping by the shore, and ate the last of the dried meat Uryuu had given her. And then she thought about what she’d seen. Despite what she had learned about the guards, the princess seemed…kind. She was really very pretty, much prettier than Rukia, with her tendency to dress in leggings and wield a sword. Had Ichigo misjudged her? Perhaps he _wanted_ to be with her and didn’t mind the guards.

But Rukia needed to hear that from Ichigo – it was the least she needed to hear, after spending such a long time traveling to find him. So, she took the golden carding comb from her bag next and changed into the blue silk dress. There wasn’t so much that she could do about her eyes, but she found some big, red berries and scrubbed the juices into her hair so that it looked like there was red mixed in with the black. Then she combed her hair so that it partially shaded her eyes from view.

She sat below a castle window carding a small piece of wool with the carding comb (thank goodness Retsu hadn’t cleaned it before handing it over!) and waited.

Soon enough, the princess found her again, and seemed to have no recognition in her eyes. “That is such a pretty carding comb,” Orihime complimented. “What would you like for it?”

Rukia smiled up at her and said in a much lower voice than her normal tone, “I am sorry, my lady, but it’s not for sale for either money or gold.”

The pretty orange-haired girl pouted, but then she asked, “Well what might you like instead?”

Again, Rukia pretended to think, and finally she said, “I have heard that you are to marry the prince who lives here very soon. I should like to meet him and give him a special wedding gift.”

“I can take the gift for you,” Orihime offered.

Rukia swallowed back a touch of nausea at the very thought when she said, “Oh, but princess, it is something that will be a surprise for you! It wouldn’t do at all to have you see it before your wedding day.”

Satisfied, Orihime agreed to the exchange and Rukia handed over the golden carding comb. As she had the night before, she met Orihime at the foot of the large staircase and followed her down the narrow hallway.

Ichigo was asleep again. This time Rukia didn’t even bother to wake him before sniffing his mouth for evidence. It was the same scent as before; he had been drugged. Though she suspected it was hopeless she spent much of the night trying to wake him, even kissing his lips as though she was in a fairy story and love might cure him.

It didn’t.

She hunted down more of the guards, slicing her katana through the air and down through the strange white masks. Each time she heard a whispered _thank you_ and thought that the guards must not be quite as soulless as the princess claimed. Finally, she scuttled back to Ichigo in the pre-dawn hour. As the sun began to rise, Rukia cut a second lock of her hair without delay and tucked it into his left hand. She managed to sheath her sword before the princess opened the door and beamed at her prince. She ushered Rukia away.

Rukia wandered away from the castle and found a small creek filled with ice-cold water. There she finally _did_ give into despair, at least for a few minutes. Huddled in the pretty dress Hisana had made for her and with her hair full of sticky, sour-smelling berry juice, Rukia curled in on herself and cried. She muffled herself in her bag so that no one could hear and struggled to breathe enough air into her lungs as she shook with uncontrollable sobs and keened into the lumpy leather surface.

Eventually, though, Rukia cried herself out. Her breathing evened out and she knew that she could not give up just yet. She still had the spinning wheel; if that failed, she still had her sword. And so, she washed her hair of the dried berry juice and used a strip from her tunic to put a cold compress on her eyes and bring the swelling down.

Rukia’s actions – both inside of Ichigo’s room and out of it – had gained attention. Ichigo’s bedroom shared a wall with the room of several other prisoners, and the walls were quite thin. In the middle of the day, as Ichigo was puzzling over the two locks of hair he’d mysteriously found in his room, a knock came from the other side of the wall.

“Who’s there?” he asked and leaned in close.

“Prince! Prince, you must know – there is a woman who has come to your bedside for the last two nights,” a voice echoed through the wall.

“My stepsister? She comes to my room every night and tries to make me fall in love with her,” Ichigo grumbled.

“No! No, this woman begs you to wake and calls herself your wife.”

Ichigo’s eyes widened. _Rukia._ She’d found him. His heart pounded and he said through the wall, “Are you sure?”

“Yes! And there is more, prince. There is a rumor that someone is destroying the soulless guards.”

_My little midget knows how to use her sword. Perhaps she is behind this as well_. “Thank you for telling me,” he called softly through the wall.

That night, the princess gave him something to drink and he sniffed it; for the first time he noticed the scents of valerian and passionflower, and he cleverly pretended to drink it, but instead allowed it to trickle gradually down the back of the black shirt he wore.

He changed his shirt and left a candle burning as he pretended to sleep until the door creaked open and then a soft sigh that he recognized so well echoed in the room.

“I don’t have anything else to give her,” Rukia whispered. “This could be the last time I’ll see you unless you wake up. Please, please wake up.” Her hand drifted along his forearm and she shook him a little. “Wake _up_ , Ichigo.”

This time, his eyes opened, and honey-amber stared into hers. “Hi,” he whispered.

That…was the wrong thing to say. “Hi?! I spent over three weeks crossing a _continent_ to find you, and let the winds carry me above the entire world – two of them are married, by the way, which I didn’t think was a thing that happened – and for the last two nights I’ve been begging you to wake, and all you can say is _hi_?!” Her voice was quiet but grew increasingly tense until Ichigo quieted her by pulling her close and kissing her. He slanted his lips against hers and didn’t pull away again until she softened in his arms.

“I missed you,” he said when he deemed it safe to speak.

Rukia sagged into him as she knelt by the bed, and her head dropped to his shoulder. “I ruined everything,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“You came to save me,” Ichigo corrected her. “And I’m told you’ve been doing more than that.” When Rukia looked up at him questioningly, he said, “There’s a rumor that many of my stepmother’s special guards have disappeared.”

Heat came into her cheeks. “Ah, yes, I may have had something to do with that. The princess told me they have no souls, but they…they whisper their thanks to me as I destroy them.”

Ichigo kissed her forehead. “I am very glad you are more than you appeared to be when I first heard of you.” When Rukia’s eyebrow quirked up in question, he explained, “For though my darling’s eyes sparkle amethyst and her lips bring to mind the reddest of rubies, it is her heart that bewitches me, for it speaks the language of courage.”

“My heart bewitches you?” she asked softly, and Ichigo’s smile – the first one she’d ever seen – made her knees a little weak.

“How could it not, when from the moment I met you it showed bravery and loyalty, and when you accepted me no matter that you could not see me?”

“But…but the candle,” Rukia protested, and Ichigo’s lips touched hers again.

“Might end up saving us.” At Rukia’s raised eyebrow, he said, “I am supposed to marry the princess tomorrow. But when I was taken from your arms, I was wearing the shirt with tallow on it. I’ll ask her to wash it. I’m sure she won’t be able to – people with evil in their hearts can’t make things clean again.”

Rukia stared at him. “That…does not sound like a good plan. And does she _really_ have evil in her heart? She seems…naïve. She doesn’t really understand the soulless guards and I know she’s obsessed with you, but she seems kind of sweet otherwise. And…and very pretty. Much prettier than m—” She was cut off by Ichigo’s lips again, and this time his arms lifted her onto the bed beside him.

His arms slid around her and they pressed full-length against one another. “Trust me,” he said when he pulled his lips from hers. They were both breathing a little unsteadily. “It’s the way these things work – her spells, I mean. And no, she is _not_ prettier than you.”

She still looked skeptical. “I’m keeping my sword ready as back-up,” she said. “I should find one for you, too.” Rukia rolled off the bed before Ichigo could stop her. “Stay here.” She edged open the door and looked both ways before slipping out, padding down the halls in stockinged feet.

Her previous nighttime wanderings bore fruit: she’d found the armory on the first night, and she stole inside, recovering a slender daito that gleamed black in the low light of the torches that lined the walls. Rukia had to kill another three soulless guards on the way back, but she slipped inside Ichigo’s room nearly soundlessly.

“Here,” she said when he turned to look at her. “You can use this.”

Ichigo grinned at her. “And where am I going to hide that tomorrow morning?”

Rukia pursed her lips, but then her eyes lit. “Here’s what we’ll do,” she said.

They planned quietly until early morning, and when the princess arrived to kick Rukia out, she went willingly, bowing her head even as she smuggled the black sword out in the folds of her skirt and Ichigo pretended to be dead to the world.

Rukia waited just outside the castle gate for Ichigo to put the first part of their plan into action.


	5. The White Blade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is put into action, and to the victors go the spoils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time: I ended up splitting chapter 5 into two as it got unwieldy. Chapter six will be out shortly.

“Wake up, my prince! It is our wedding day!” Orihime trilled as she flung the door open a second time a few hours later.

Ichigo rolled to one side and pretended to wake, stretching slowly. He looked at her and disguised a shudder; she looked like his sister, or even his _mother_ , rest her soul. But he stood, and said to her, “I would have you perform a task for me before we marry, to show what kind of wife I am getting.”

“Oh! Oh, anything, my prince!” she said eagerly, and her eyes shone.

“Allow me to dress, and then we will go downstairs to your mother.”

The door closed and Ichigo dressed quickly in black trousers and a similarly colored shirt. He took the tallow-stained shirt with him and met Orihime downstairs, where she waited with her stepmother. “I would know what kind of wife I am getting,” he said to his stepmother, whose eyes gleamed above the mask she wore that covered the lower half of her face.

“Oh?” the tall woman asked. “And what do you propose?”

Ichigo held out his shirt. “Someone has spilled tallow on my favorite shirt. I will only marry the woman who can clean it again.”

His stepmother huffed amusement under her breath but ordered a basin of water and soap to be brought, and Orihime rolled up her sleeves with an enthusiasm that frankly made Ichigo a little nervous.

Fortunately, he was right about the magic. Orihime confidently applied soap to the stains and scrubbed, but the tallow spread and darkened the shirt. “How strange!” she trilled. “Perhaps the soap is not the right kind for tallow?”

His stepmother ordered more soap to be brought and Orihime tried again, but the stain just spread further. “You cannot wash properly,” she said in a voice muffled by the mask. “Give it here.” Then she, too, rolled up her sleeves and tried to wash the shirt. But no matter her efforts, the staining only grew worse. “Is this a trick?” she demanded as Ichigo looked at her impassively.

“It is as I said, stepmother. Tallow was spilled on my shirt, and I would like it to be cleaned.”

She called over one of the servants and they tried to wash the shirt, but the stain just spread. The shirt was becoming so stained and dirty that it looked practically unrecoverable.

“How disappointing,” Ichigo said, as calmly as he could manage. “There’s a beggar girl who has been hanging around the castle and I would bet she would be able to clean this shirt.”

His stepmother narrowed her eyes, but she jerked her head at the servant. “Go get this _beggar girl_ ,” she hissed.

Rukia was brought into the castle, and she kept her eyes downcast. She’d worn the black traveling dress again and torn the sleeves and hem so that it looked of lower quality than it truly was. She carried a long stick and her bag hung from the end of it.

“Beggar girl, do you think you can wash this shirt?” Ichigo asked. He took the shirt back from the servant and held it out to her.

“Perhaps,” she said. “I am happy to try.”

She set her bag down, kicking the stick under it so that it would be less apparent that the stick was in fact the sheathed sword she’d stolen the night before. Then Rukia grabbed the shirt and took it to the basin. Almost as soon as she touched it with soap the stains started to disappear, and Rukia had only to give it a cursory wash before the tallow lifted away and the shirt was as white as driven snow.

The stepmother growled behind her mask. “What trickery is this?” she demanded.

Rukia dropped the shirt back into the basin. “ _I_ am Prince Ichigo’s wife,” she said.

Orihime stomped her foot. “Prince Ichigo has no wife!” She pouted prettily at Ichigo. “I have been in love with you for so long, my prince. Who is this beggar woman who claims to be your wife?”

Ichigo shuddered openly at her declaration. “Rukia crossed continents and oceans to find me when my stepmother stole me from her. _She_ is the woman I love.”

At that, Rukia gave him a smile so luminous that Ichigo’s heart leapt in his chest. “And now, stepmother, you are going to let my wife and I go home.”

The stepmother snorted. “Hardly. Even if you have broken my curse, I have other ways of keeping you here.” She snapped her fingers and the soulless guards began moving forward.

Ichigo reached for the sword by Rukia’s bag, while her hand found the hilt of her sword, which was once again secreted beneath her dress, and she pulled it from its sheath. “Your guards are hardly a threat,” she pointed out. “They fall easily.”

The older woman’s eyes focused on Rukia. “ _You_ ,” she said. “ _You’re_ the one who has been killing my guards?”

The petite woman grinned. “As I said. They’re hardly a threat.”

The stepmother screamed with rage and the guards rushed Ichigo and Rukia. Ichigo’s sword came up, and fortunately though he was out of practice he hadn’t forgotten his own swordsmanship training. Together, the prince and his brave wife rushed forward. “Aim for their heads,” Rukia called out, and Ichigo just nodded.

Ichigo’s sword swung down on guard after guard and from the corner of his eye he could see his wife doing the same. She was beautiful in battle, and he had to growl at himself to keep from getting distracted by the way she practically danced with her sword.

The guards were comparatively slow – Rukia was right, they seemed at one point to throw themselves upon the swords of their enemies – and they made quick work of them. Soon enough only Ichigo’s stepmother and stepsister were left, and he pointed his sword at his stepmother. “As I said, stepmother, it is time to let us go home.”

His stepmother reached up and unfastened the mask from around her mouth. White bone, like the masks covering the guards, covered her jaw and throat. “I think not.” She lifted a hand up and power formed at her fingertips. It shot from her hand in an angry red ball, and Ichigo and Rukia dove in different directions to avoid it. The power burned everything it touched, tearing through the stone floors and part of the staircase.

The two lovers met again, and Rukia whispered, “Now what?” before they had to dodge another of the red beams.

“She looks a lot creepier than when she married my father,” Ichigo growled. But he launched himself at his stepmother, who just laughed and backhanded him when he grew close enough to reach her. Her strength was much greater than he expected, and he flew backwards, barely managing to avoid hitting his head as he fell.

They fought like that, with Orihime looking on helplessly, until the stepmother managed to graze Rukia with the beam of energy. Rukia fell with a scream, clutching her left arm, and Ichigo launched himself at her to cover her, eyes trying to assess the damage.

The stepmother aimed another beam of power and launched it directly at them. Ichigo looked up and tried to drag Rukia out of the way and shield her with his body at the same time.

A high scream filled the air and suddenly Orihime was in front of them, arms stretched out. She took the full brunt of her mother’s anger and power to her chest and stomach with another scream, then fell to the ground and lay still.

Ichigo stared at his stepsister as his stepmother screamed her rage and another ball of power began to form in her hand.

But Rukia stood, and her blade gleamed white as she ran forward. She dodged the older woman’s attempt to backhand her and the ball of power she shot off as well. A hand blocked her blade and Rukia slid back from the force of it, but she just looked dead-eyed at the woman who had cursed her husband and stepped forward again. Suddenly power filled her, and Rukia’s blade plunged into her opponent’s chest practically to the guard. She had the sudden impression of many others around her, joining her hands on the hilt of her blade.

 _Now,_ something said inside of her. Energy _pulsed_ from her sword and rippled around them.

Ichigo’s stepmother shattered into a million pieces.

The energy backlash sent Rukia flying back, and Ichigo caught her before she could fall. Her sword clattered to the ground.

Silence filled the castle, and then they exchanged a look and hurried to Ichigo’s stepsister. Orihime groaned softly and Rukia knelt, assessing the damage. She tore off the outer layer of her skirt to wrap tightly around the girl’s stomach and chest. “Are there any healers in the castle?” she asked as she looked between Ichigo and Orihime.

“I’m s-sorry,” Orihime whispered. “I shouldn’t have let her go so far.”

Ichigo knelt by her side and wrapped his hand around hers. “Thank you for saving us.”

Orihime looked at Rukia, then, and she struggled to whisper, “You’ll take care of him, right?” The makeshift bandage wrapped around her grew wet with blood. “You’re the one he loves.”

Rukia tugged the fabric more tightly to try and stem the bleeding. “Yes, I will, but – hold on, don’t shut your eyes, princess. Ichigo, Ichigo – try and find _someone_.”

Ichigo climbed to his feet. “There are other prisoners here. Maybe one of them can help.” He ran from the hall, leaving Rukia holding her rival’s hand.

Fortunately for Ichigo’s stepsister, his stepmother had _many_ others imprisoned in her castle, and soon Ichigo came back with Kisuke Urahara _and_ a young priest named Hanatarou Yamada. Urahara fell to his knees and began to work on Orihime immediately.

Hanatarou patched up Rukia’s injured arm. His hands glowed softly as he worked, and soon Rukia could barely feel the burning pain that had sent her to her knees only a few minutes ago. “There,” he said when he was done. “You’ll be much better in a few days.” Then he joined Urahara on the floor next to Orihime.

Rukia slumped to the ground and leaned against a pillar, closing her eyes. Ichigo found her a moment later and sat down beside her. He set her sword down in her lap and slid an arm around her, kissing her temple gently. “Rukia?” he asked.

She opened her eyes again reluctantly and managed to smile up at him. “Hi.” Her eyes slid shut again and she leaned against him.

“Come on. I’ll find you somewhere more comfortable to rest,” Ichigo promised. When Rukia didn’t respond, he nudged her carefully. “Rukia?” Then: “Hanatarou!”

The priest hurried over from the princess and knelt by them. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s Rukia. She just…lost consciousness all of a sudden,” Ichigo explained quickly.

Hanatarou hummed under his breath and his hands began to glow again. He checked Rukia for wounds and ran his hands lightly above her, then shook his head at Ichigo. “She’s exhausted and malnourished. She needs to rest,” he said. “Preferably not on the floor.”

Ichigo huffed out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Hanatarou.” He took leaned Rukia forward slightly to pull the sheath from between her shoulder blades, then sheathed the sword she’d used to kill his stepmother. He strapped the sword onto his own belt and lifted her into his arms, then nodded at Hanatarou. “I’m going to find somewhere for her to sleep.”

He carried her up the stairs and skipped the tiny room he’d been imprisoned in; instead Ichigo found a luxuriously appointed guest room and laid Rukia down atop the soft bed. Hanatarou was right; she’d lost weight. Ichigo brushed his lips over her forehead and whispered softly, “Thank you, Rukia.”

Ichigo checked on Urahara and Hanatarou and then went searching for other prisoners, scouring the castle from top to bottom. It took a few hours, and, in the end, he found and freed over thirty other people who had been held prisoner by his stepmother. He also found the kitchens during his search and pilfered a tray full of grapes, cheese, sliced meat, and a big mug of hot tea, then returned to the guest room where he’d left Rukia and stepped inside to gently wake her.

“Hmn?” Rukia stirred as Ichigo sat down on the edge of the bed with the tray.

“I brought you something to eat,” Ichigo told her, and set the tray down to help her sit up.

Rukia smiled up at him sleepily and said, “It’s not bread, is it? I’m…really sick of bread.”

He leaned his forehead against hers and sighed softly. “No, no bread. Rukia, I…” His arms slid around her and he pulled her close. Rukia’s arms came up around him in turn and they held one another tightly. “Thank you,” he said again, “For saving me. I’m sorry that you suffered so much to get here.”

She buried her head in his chest. “I deserved it,” drifted up from the space between them and Ichigo pulled back a little. His expression was fierce as he looked at her.

“No, Rukia, you didn’t deserve any of it. You didn’t _know_ that I was under a curse or the terms of it, and I couldn’t tell you.” Ichigo kissed the space between her brows gently.

Rukia smiled up at him tremulously and leaned up to kiss him. Their lips met and clung, first gently and then more passionately, until they were both breathing unevenly. Ichigo’s hand dropped down to Rukia’s thigh and squeezed gently – and she yelped in agony.

He broke away from her as if _he’d_ been the one hurt, and nearly upset the tray of food next to them. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked urgently. His hands tentatively brushed hers. “Did I hurt you? Did – did someone else hurt you?”

Rukia shook her head. “No – no, it’s just muscle soreness from traveling,” she assured him.

Ichigo’s hand came up to cup her cheek. “We’ll be here for at least a few more days. You can rest for a while.” He glanced at the tray next to them. “And eat,” he added. “You should eat and drink before your tea gets cold.”

She hummed her agreement. “Sit with me?” Rukia asked.

Ichigo passed the mug to her and just said, “Of course.”

Later, when Rukia had finished eating and declared herself at least somewhat refreshed, they returned to the hall to find a number of the former prisoners milling around. Uryuu was there, and Rukia introduced him to Ichigo, saying, “Uryuu gave me shelter and loaned me his horse so that I could find you. He even gave me his golden spinning wheel so that I could trade it to the princess to see you.”

Uryuu blushed at that, but he shook Ichigo’s hand soberly and said quietly, “Your wife is a determined one. It was a privilege to aid her.”

Then they were all blushing, and Rukia mumbled something about checking on Orihime to spare herself further compliments.

“How nice to see you, Rukia,” Kisuke said when she knelt beside him. “I trust your sister is doing well?”

Rukia let out a helpless laugh. “She was when I last saw her over a month ago. I’m afraid I’ve been rather occupied since then.”

Kisuke smiled under the shadow of his hat. “Yes, I imagine so,” he agreed. He looked down at Orihime, who was unconscious. “I think we’ve managed to save her, but she’ll need time to heal.”

Rukia frowned. “Well…we’ve all been gone from home such a long time anyway. Perhaps some of us can stay with her.”

Ichigo and Uryuu found them, then, and the latter seemed openly entranced with the princess’ appearance. That gave Rukia the inkling of an idea. Ichigo, though, just said, “Time to figure out how to get out of here. We’re really far from _everything_.”

Urahara tapped his cane on the stone floor pensively. “Well, there should be enough horses for all of us,” he began. “I know that my horse was kidnapped with me.” He eyed them. “There’s quite a lot of gold hidden in the castle, as well. Compensation for all of these prisoners, perhaps?”

That led Ichigo to form an expedition to find the stables while Urahara and a stern-eyed woman who introduced herself as Nanao led a separate group through the castle to loot it for gold and other valuables. Uryuu, Rukia, and Hanatarou stayed behind to watch over Orihime, who could not yet be moved.

It took a full day, but soon every drop of gold, every jewel, and quite a few bolts of silk were piled in the great hall. Ichigo returned to the stables to report that there were not only enough horses for everyone, there were several pack mules, a couple of carts, and even a covered carriage.

There was another development: Orihime was awake and talking with Uryuu. That gave Rukia pause, but the princess seemed to have meant it when she asked Rukia to take care of Ichigo for her; the way her eyes looked at Uryuu as she spoke was very _different_ than how she’d looked at Ichigo. It seemed more real, somehow.

“I think I know who can stay with your stepsister,” Rukia whispered to Ichigo when they met once more in the entrance hall. Ichigo just looked enormously relieved.

Fortunately, Rukia’s instincts were good ones. Several of the freed prisoners volunteered to cook an evening meal and soon they were all gathered in the enormous dining room.

“Princess Orihime, please, let me get that for you. You must not exert yourself,” Uryuu pleaded as he stopped the young woman from stretching to reach across the table for a platter of roasted vegetables.

“Oh – yes, thank you, Uryuu,” she murmured in response. Their hands brushed against one another as Orihime withdrew her hand, and mirror-image blushes came to their cheeks. “Just a spoonful, please.”

Uryuu spooned the vegetables onto her plate as requested and added a few to his as well. “Would you like another slice of chicken?” he asked. “Or some bread?”

“Ah! Yes, just a small slice,” Orihime said, and smiled up at him. “But please, tell me – how did you come to the castle?”

“Ah…your mother actually _hired_ me to create gowns for her, but when I suggested that green was not her color it didn’t go so well,” Uryuu admitted. He glanced nervously at Orihime, but she just nodded seriously.

“That’s happened before. But where are you from? How do you know Prince Ichigo’s wife?”

Further down the table, Ichigo and Rukia sat next to one another. Ichigo had his arm around her, keeping her snug against him on their shared bench, as if he didn’t want to let her go. “I think you’re right,” he said, and when Rukia looked up at him curiously he tilted his head toward the princess and Uryuu.

“I hope so,” Rukia agreed. “They certainly seem to be getting along.” Then she frowned. “She doesn’t seem all that broken up about the loss of her mother,” she whispered.

Ichigo tugged her closer. “I…think they didn’t have a good relationship,” he whispered back. “But maybe she’s just in shock…”

Rukia hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps.” Then Ichigo scooped more potatoes and a massive portion of roasted beef on her plate, and she looked up at him. “Really?”

“You need to eat, we have a long trip home,” he grumbled back.

The next morning saw Uryuu and Orihime walking in the gardens behind the castle, her arm tucked on his. They strolled slowly and Uryuu, mindful of the fact that Orihime was still healing, stopped often with the thinly-veiled excuse of admiring a particular flower here or a bush there. Finally, when Orihime could no longer conceal the fact that she was tiring and out of breath, Uryuu led her to a bench and sat down beside her.

“The others will leave soon,” he commented as he looked up toward the pale blue sky.

“Yes, I think so,” Orihime agreed softly. “They will all want to go home, having been away from home so long.” Her auburn hair swirled around her in the morning breeze and she glanced at him. “It will be very quiet here.”

Uryuu made a noise of agreement in his throat. “This castle is very remote,” he commented. “Is there no one nearby who could visit?”

“Ah – no, not really. It will just be me and the servants,” Orihime admitted after a moment. Then she smiled at him. “But that’s alright! It was just mother and the servants before.”

But Uryuu said, “Would you mind if I stayed here, for a while?”

Her eyes shined a little as she looked at him, and Orihime tucked her arm in his. “I would like that very much,” she whispered.

Inside, near a tall window that looked out over the gardens, Kisuke just grinned and waved Hanatarou away when he asked whether it was alright for the princess to be up and about. “I’m sure Uryuu will take good care of her,” Kisuke assured him. “See? He’s even making sure she rests.”

Later, sorting out who got what from the pile of treasures took another day, and both Kisuke and Hanatarou blessed everything so that no one accidentally took home a cursed object. Orihime didn’t much seem to care about the fact that her mother’s castle had been looted from top to bottom.

Finally, saddlebags and packs were filled, bolts of fabric were covered and strapped onto pack mules, and thirty-three of the thirty-five former prisoners of the late and unlamented owner of the castle set out. Uryuu and Hanatarou remained behind with Orihime, the castle servants, and a significant share of the castle’s treasures. The somewhat timid priest blushingly admitted to Rukia that he was expecting to play chaperone more than healer, given the way that the tailor and the princess looked at one another.

The journey home was much shorter than Rukia’s trip to find Ichigo, or perhaps the joy in her bones rather than terror and guilt made it seem that way. Their share of the spoils took up one of the smaller carts, and so rather than riding, Rukia had the relative luxury of sitting next to Ichigo on a padded bench while he guided the horses.

“They don’t even match,” Rukia had laughed when she saw them in harness, and Ichigo scowled at her.

“The mare is the only one small enough for you,” he’d retorted, and pointed at the beautiful white mare, who was next to a larger, black stallion. “Now that I’m not a _bear_ anymore we can ride together.”

Rukia had looked at the horse and then at him, and said, “Oh, can we?” as her cheeks turned bright pink.

Ichigo’s cheeks had blushed to match hers.

But they needed to go home, and so anything other than a kiss had to wait. Still, being able to see him in the light as he truly was sent frissons of joy through Rukia every time she looked at him, and she stared unashamed every chance she got. Ichigo didn’t seem to mind, although his smiles were shy whenever he caught her looking at him.

Within a few days, the liberated prisoners began peeling off in small groups toward their own homes. When it was just the two of them and Urahara, Rukia finally asked, “Do we have a home to go back to? Ours vanished out from under me.”

Ichigo laughed. “Yes, and I think you’ll find it much changed.” Then he looked over at Urahara. “Kisuke, would you be willing to perform another wedding?”

At Rukia’s questioning look, he said, “My stepmother’s spell really did break our bonds. And I know a few people who would like to see the wedding this time, if you’re still willing to have me.”

“That’s not exactly a proper proposal, strawberry,” she teased.

Ichigo huffed. “Just wait until we get home, little midget,” he grumbled.

They arrived at Ichigo’s castle the next morning, and once again the gates opened. This time, though, there were _people_ waiting for them. At the head of the small crowd were two young girls. As Ichigo dismounted they ran to him and he knelt to hug them both close and kiss their foreheads. He held out a hand to Rukia then. “Karin, Yuzu, I’d like you to meet the woman…” Ichigo looked at Rukia with soft, honeyed-amber eyes. “The woman I love, and who saved me from my curse. Rukia, Karin and Yuzu are my little sisters.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Rukia said and bowed to them. Yuzu dragged Rukia off, Karin following, before she could say more, and Ichigo was caught up by his men at arms.

Much later, when the setting sun had turned everything golden and beautiful around them, Ichigo found her again and held his hand out to her. “Come take a walk with me?” he asked.

They strolled through a garden that Rukia hadn’t seen in her previous wanderings, and she was enjoying the feel of a breeze on her face when Ichigo took her hands in his. “Rukia,” he said softly, and she looked at him, eyes shining. “I love you. You’re my light, and the only woman in my heart. Will you marry me? Again?”

“Yes, yes I’ll marry you,” she agreed with a soft voice, and he took her face in his hands and kissed her in the fading light of the sun. “I love you too,” she whispered into his mouth.

When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers and slid a ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. “I couldn’t do that the first time,” Ichigo said quietly.

Rukia looked down at the ring on her finger: it was relatively modest, a band of platinum with a single marquise cut diamond. “It’s beautiful,” she told him, and pulled him down so that she could kiss him again.

Some days later Urahara left Ichigo’s castle and returned with Byakuya, Hisana, and his wife Yoruichi in a modest carriage. Rukia ran out to meet them and when Hisana climbed down from the carriage she was carrying an infant.

The sisters hugged tightly, and then Rukia shed more than a few tears at the joy of holding her new nephew after she ushered Byakuya and Hisana into a blue-hued sitting room within the castle.

When Ichigo walked in a few minutes later, clad in a smartly-fitted blue tunic and black trousers, Hisana’s jaw dropped and Byakuya’s eyes widened – but Ichigo had eyes only for Rukia and the way she looked with a child in her arms. Eventually, he managed to look up and say, “Welcome to my home. I’m not sure how much Rukia told you, but I hope you’ll stay for our second wedding.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Hisana finally whispered as she looked him up and down.

Rukia flushed. “Hisana, Byakuya, this is Ichigo Kurosaki, my betrothed.” She paused. “Yes, he was the bear. It’s a _very_ long story, but we’ve fixed that and will be marrying again in a few days.”

Byakuya just cleared his throat and managed a mostly-calm, “We will stay, of course. And I would be pleased to walk you down the aisle.”


	6. And Their Days Were Blessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding in the gardens, and a feast to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit sex between two consenting and married adults.

Despite being a new mother, Hisana eagerly took a bolt of silk that was part of the spoils of Rukia’s conquest (as Ichigo called it, and looked at her with admiration whenever he said it) and talked a maid into giving her sewing supplies. Then she made up a new wedding dress for Rukia that was all her own.

Their second wedding took place in the gardens two weeks after their return from the castle east of the sun and west of the moon. Yuzu and Karin, with help from a thoroughly charmed Byakuya, decorated an elegant pergola with fresh flowers and set out chairs for the guests.

In the early afternoon, their guests gathered to see Rukia and Ichigo wed a second time. Beyond their families, Ichigo’s retainers, and Kisuke and Yoruichi, a breathless Princess Orihime and Uryuu turned up just that morning with Hanatarou in tow, having found out about the wedding through somewhat mysterious means as no invitations had been sent. Ichigo’s best friend and the head of his small security force, Tatsuki Arisawa, sat grinning next to Renji Abarai, his master at arms.

Rukia practically glowed in an elegant dress of lavender silk cut to emphasize her collarbones and slender waist, and walked down the aisle on Byakuya’s arm with such an expression of joy on her face that their guests could not help but echo it. She wore no veil, but her hair was pulled into a loose updo with sparkling amethyst pins.

Ichigo was no different, and the look in his eyes was soft as Rukia met him at the altar. Byakuya kissed her cheek and nodded solemnly to him, then took his seat beside Hisana. Rukia smiled up at Ichigo and took his hands as Kisuke began the ceremony. He’d dressed more appropriately for this ceremony than their first, even exchanging his striped hat for combed hair.

“Thank you, all of you, for being here today,” he said, and smiled just a little smugly when his eyes passed over Orihime and Uryuu. “I have the good fortune of joining together Rukia Kuchiki and Ichigo Kurosaki in marriage, and of wishing them well on this happiest of days.”

Then he told their story: how Ichigo’s curse had brought them together and created an opportunity for love between them. How the curse had torn them apart and sent Rukia on a quest across a continent and on the very winds themselves to save her prince. He glossed over the death of Orihime’s stepmother but shared Rukia’s rescue of Ichigo and their journey home.

“And today,” Kisuke said, “Rukia and Ichigo stand before us to once again join together in marriage.” He turned to Rukia. “Do you, Rukia, take Ichigo to be your husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him, protect him, and forsake all others, holding only unto him forevermore?”

Rukia smiled up at Ichigo and squeezed his hands. “I do,” she said firmly.

Kisuke nodded. “And do you, Ichigo, take Rukia to be your wife? Do you promise to love and cherish her, protect her, and forsake all others, holding only unto her forevermore?”

Ichigo’s answering smile as he said, “I do” had his sisters and Orihime dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs.

Kisuke asked for the rings then, and Karin stood from her place in the front row of chairs to hand a small box to the priest. He blessed them quietly and handed the smaller of the two rings to Ichigo, who slid the ring onto her finger just above the ring he had given her just a short time ago.

“Take this ring as a sign of my love, that I have chosen you above all else. With this ring, I thee wed,” he said quietly, and squeezed her hand gently.

Rukia took the larger ring and slid it onto Ichigo’s left ring finger, where it gleamed golden in the afternoon light. “Take this ring as a sign of my love, that I have chosen you above all else. With this ring, I thee wed,” she responded in kind.

The priest smiled. “You have already faced and overcome so many obstacles, and it is my hope that the path before you will be smooth. Trust in one another. Continue to grow together. Be loyal to one another as you go forward together.” Then Kisuke looked beyond Ichigo and Rukia to the small assembly of guests.

“As a priest and healer of the Sacred Orders, it is my honor and my delight to declare that you are married.” Then Kisuke’s eyes sparkled and he said, “You may kiss.”

Ichigo pulled Rukia close and she wrapped her arms around his neck as their lips met in a soft kiss to soft applause and more than a few sniffles.

Their wedding feast – a proper one, this time – was held in the enormous dining room where Rukia had dined alone for over two months. This time, Ichigo and Rukia sat together at the head of the dining table and their wedding guests surrounded them. Servants brought platter after platter to the table and soon the dining room filled with cheerful talk and the clatter of the meal.

“Are you fully recovered?” Rukia asked Orihime, when they had a moment together. The princess looked well to her eyes, with her auburn hair flowing nearly to her waist and sparkling blue pins keeping it out of her face.

“Oh, yes! Hanatarou and Uryuu have taken very good care of me,” the princess replied and smiled shyly at Uryuu when his eyes glanced in her direction. “Uryuu has asked to _court_ me, and I said yes,” she confided.

Rukia exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding in and smiled. “I’m very glad to hear that. Will you be staying in the castle?”

“For a little while longer,” Orihime affirmed. “Though I think we may lose Hanatarou…” She glanced meaningfully at the young priest, who was seated next to Yuzu. The two were talking animatedly, and both were slightly flushed.

“ _Oh_ ,” Rukia said, and grinned.

Then Orihime took Rukia’s hands in hers. “Rukia,” she said, and her hands glowed slightly. “I have a little of my mother’s magic. But she turned her strength to…something ugly. Let me instead tell you: I hope that you and Ichigo will be _blessed_ for all of your days.” Soft, golden energy washed over the room as Orihime’s words settled, and Rukia swayed on her feet before steadying.

Ichigo stood as the magic washed over them, but Rukia just smiled at him reassuringly. And she said very quietly, “Thank you, Orihime. May you and Uryuu know the same blessings.”

The feast continued until late in the evening. Finally, to cheers and some ribbing from Kisuke and Renji, Ichigo and Rukia bid their guests goodnight and climbed the stairs to their bedroom. Ichigo lifted Rukia into his arms and carried her, the train of her dress trailing behind them, across the threshold. Then he shut and locked the door.

When Ichigo set Rukia down on her feet she leaned up to kiss him, and his arms came back around her. He sighed into her mouth and murmured, “I love you, Rukia.”

“I love you too.” Rukia pulled back from him but her amethyst eyes met his and she smiled. “I missed sleeping by your side at night.”

Ichigo huffed. “You _are_ the one who insisted that we sleep separately until the wedding,” he pointed out. “And I missed you too.” His lips trailed down her neck. “All of you.”

Her cheeks heated and Rukia let out a shaky breath as his lips found her pulse-point. “Unmarried people aren’t supposed to…sleep together,” she argued breathily. “Even if they’ve been forcibly un-married by a curse.”

He huffed against her skin. “And now?” He nibbled lightly at the join of her neck and shoulder.

“And now, I want to leave the lamps lit and make up for lost time,” Rukia whispered.

That prompted a soft chuckle, and Ichigo raised his head to look at her. “Oh?” he asked, voice dropping lower.

“Mhm. I want to see you.”

Ichigo’s eyes softened. “I want to see you too. Let me help you with all of this,” he offered, and gently spun her so that she faced away from him. His lips trailed kisses along the nape of her neck as his fingers worked at the lacing down the back of her dress.

Rukia shivered in his arms and when the dress loosened around her, she slipped her arms from the sleeves. When the fabric fell and pooled around her feet Ichigo lifted his fingers to slide through her hair, gently working out the jeweled pins holding it up until her midnight hair spilled down below her shoulders. He left the pins in a pile on the nightstand, sparkling in the light of an oil lamp. Rukia stepped out of both her shoes and the pile of silk fabric surrounding her.

His lips found hers again and she moaned softly into his mouth, fisting her hands in his tunic. Rukia tugged it upwards to expose his chest and Ichigo pulled his lips from hers just long enough to reach behind his back and pull his tunic up over his head. She pulled her shift off in turn and Ichigo hurried to discard his boots and trousers.

Rukia reached for him, but Ichigo’s hands stilled hers. “Let me look at you,” he whispered, sending a flush of pink through her cheeks and down to her chest. His eyes darkened at the sight of her and he pulled her just a little closer. “You’re so, so beautiful,” he whispered, and leaned down to brush his lips against hers. The kiss turned deeper, more passionate, as Rukia stood on tiptoes to get closer to him.

When they were both breathing heavily, Rukia smiled up at him and pulled away to look at him, too. Despite his months as a bear and then the time he’d spent imprisoned in the castle east of the sun and west of the moon, he was muscled and angular, and his arms were firm under her hands. “You’re beautiful too,” she said, and Ichigo’s face turned scarlet.

“Men aren’t supposed to be _beautiful_ ,” he protested.

“Well maybe princes are,” she said in turn, and kissed him again before he could disagree.

Ichigo scooped her up and they fell into bed together in a tangle of limbs and heated kisses, of laughter when her fingers trailed over a ticklish spot. That laughter soon turned to more heated sounds, to soft moans and little gasps as hands slid over warm skin.

She was already wet when his fingers found her pussy and slid, slick and wanting, over her skin. His mouth followed and when Ichigo looked up at her from between her thighs with eyes of molten amber while his tongue and fingers worked her over, Rukia muffled her scream with the back of her hand as she fell to pieces beneath him.

Ichigo was there to catch her, sliding back up her body as Rukia watched with pleasure-hazed eyes. His cock, thick and hard, rutted against her, sliding through slick lips and brushing against her clit so that she gasped into his mouth when he kissed her.

“Please,” Rukia whispered into his mouth, and Ichigo ran a hand along her thigh.

He took his cock in hand and coated himself in her wetness before sinking home, drawing twin gasps from their lips. She seized him in another kiss and they moved together as one, her moans driving him on and her name like a prayer on his lips. Ichigo urged her leg up over his shoulder and found an angle that made Rukia see stars. He grinned down at her, gleaming golden in the lamplight, as she gasped his name and fell apart again, clenching tight around him so that he hung his head and panted.

“Another,” Ichigo whispered then, and when Rukia flushed pink, he slid out while she hissed her pleasure and rolled onto his back. “Come ride me,” he whispered, one hand held out to her.

Rukia managed a ragged breath and climbed atop him. His hands clutched her hips but Ichigo didn’t take control as she let his cock rub against her clit until stars were forming behind her eyes again. But then her eyes found his and she flushed shyly, though he was shaking beneath her thighs and his hands were flexing on her skin.

He surged up to kiss her, tongue sliding to lick into her mouth, and together they lifted her hips. She sank down onto him with a keening cry that Ichigo swallowed, and as Rukia rode him his lips found her breast, sucking one nipple into his mouth and laving it with his tongue so that she shuddered against him. One hand left her hip to slide between them and rub her clit again as he whispered into her ear, begging her to come for him once more.

He met her thrust for thrust until a final wave crashed over her and Rukia choked on his name as her pussy clenched and fluttered around his cock. Ichigo fucked up into her once, twice more and followed her over the edge, spilling himself into her and clutching her close so that their hearts beat a rapid tattoo against one another.

They collapsed together, still tangled, and Ichigo rolled them onto their sides. He pushed a lock of sweat-dampened hair from Rukia’s face and kissed her again. “I love you, Rukia Kurosaki,” he whispered to her.

Rukia beamed at him and pressed her hand to his chest, over his heart. “I love you too, Ichigo Kurosaki.”

They slept little, taking seriously Rukia’s desire to make up for lost time. When they woke late in the morning, they were still wrapped in each other’s arms.

Less than a year after their wedding, Ichigo and Rukia welcomed twins: a daughter with hair like a sunset and a son with wisps of dark hair. And Orihime’s magic was as true as her mother’s was false, for their days were, indeed, blessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you so very much for reading Go East, and I hope you enjoyed this story.


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